Chapter 5

By the time she reached the door he was gone from view, but she was pretty sure she knew where he was. She hesitated, though, and only by sheer will did she force her legs to carry her down the steps and over to the pavilion. She found him there, with his back to her, leaning with his forearms on the low wall facing the lake. His hands were folded and his head bowed. Jesse moved quietly up to a few feet behind him and stayed there for a long time, staring at her feet and then his back. His breathing was laboured, as if he were fighting for control. He was, really. Fighting the urge to yell. To run farther away. To look at her and demand what in the world was going on.
God, give me strength, he said silently.
Finally he turned around. “I’m sorry,” he said. He was. The simple apology wasn’t nearly enough to express what he meant, but he didn’t know what else to say. He was sorry for reacting the way he had, for not being able to deal with it calmly. And he felt guilty, because he had judged her. Whatever the reason, in that moment, that’s what he’d done. How could he have done that? It was strange to think he had any kind of faith in a human being, but he’d had faith in her. He’d put a little bit of trust in her character, even if subconsciously, and because of that this news had dealt him an extra hard blow. Five minutes ago he would have bet his life that Jesse would never do something like this. Without a shadow of a doubt in his mind, or his heart, or his soul, he would have flat-out denied the possibility. He had a hard time believing she had ever been kissed, never mind this. Jesse, pregnant? She was the good girl, the one you never had to worry about or second-guess. He prayed to God she was lying, that there was a mistake, that he was dreaming. Anything but this.
He had been looking at the floor. Somehow he made himself meet her eyes. Those eyes - they looked right through him. They saw his accusations and unforgivable thoughts. Her cheeks were wet with tears, and she was shivering. She looked ready to sob. She was hurt, and it was his fault. Had he made her cry? He, Michael Brown, had made Jesse McDougall cry. Oh God, what was he supposed to do?
She didn’t say anything, and he couldn’t say any more. He held out his arms instead, they both took a step forward, and he held her as she cried, holding her head under his chin. “I’m so sorry,” he told her again, through his own tears. He tried his best to comfort her. “It’s ok... it’s ok... it’s ok...”
She clung to him even when she was out of tears. It was better than facing him, better than seeing his disappointment in her. She knew what he thought of her, and it was almost unbearable if even for a few minutes. She couldn’t blame him; she would be thinking she same thing if she were in his position. She couldn’t explain right now, but she would, as soon as she could speak again.
Laughter reached them as the hospitality hostesses, finished with the lunch dishes, came out the back door of the dining hall. They were headed for their cabin, obviously, and would soon be able to see them.
Jesse immediately pulled herself away from Michael. She still couldn’t look at him. She needed to get away. Without a word and only one painful glance at him, she turned and half-walked, half-ran, to Ingleside.
She collapsed on her bed and continued to cry. Was Michael angry? He almost seemed... but no, he couldn’t be. He was shocked, but he didn’t have, couldn’t have, any reason to be angry - except maybe that the camp would allow someone like her to work there. But he would understand soon enough. She would tell him, make him understand. Oh, why did this have to be so hard? She buried her face in her pillow and groaned in frustration. This was all her fault, all of it. Sometimes, she really made herself mad. And this crying - would she ever stop crying? It seemed as if she could do nothing else since she got here. She hadn’t cried for four months, and now she couldn’t stop. She was turning into a basketcase.
Why had she just assumed he knew about her? It was so stupid! Bob and Kim knew, they’d obviously told Marilyn, and she suspected a few others as well. It would have been so much easier if they’d told Michael, too. Now... now she didn’t know what to do. She’d dealt with this many times, but it had been different. Always, before, she’d had time to work up her courage, and was able to explain everything before anyone had time to ask questions. She had been calm, always in control of herself. She’d told Bob, her pastor, and her friends. She’d done it well. Others had admired her composure, she knew. But this... in this she was completely lost. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to do anything.
There was a knock at her door. “What do you want?” she groaned. It was probably Phil, but she couldn’t face even her right now. There was no answer. Wonderful. Rubbing her face, she called out again, “come in!”
It wasn’t Phil. Jesse wished now that she’d kept her mouth shut: it was Michael. He opened the door slightly and stuck his head in. “I’d really like to talk.”
She didn’t feel up to it yet, but he looked so pitiful, so guilty, that she nodded in agreement. Knowing he shouldn’t really come in, she joined him on the front step, taking a box of kleenex with her. A bush on their right afforded some privacy when they sat down, so the only way anyone could see them would be from the beach. She blew her nose.
Michael pointed awkwardly at some flowers a few feet away. “You’ve got daisies.”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “Not many, but they do make it look pretty out here. Just as long as the campers don’t find them.” There was a lot you could do with a handful of wildflowers for extra points in cabin cleanup.
“Aw, they’d grow back pretty quick. They’re tough little things.”
She almost chuckled. “Not if they get picked clean every day!”
Michael had to concede.
She sobered now. She wasn’t crying anymore; it was time to tell him. “Michael, I don’t want you to be sorry. You have no reason to be.”
“Yes, I do. I had no right to...”
“Yes, you did. It was a surprise. I’m sorry no one told you. I honestly thought they had.”
Michael was still apologetic. “It’s really not any of my business. I shouldn’t have asked.”
He was talking too much, and it was distracting her. She had to get him to listen somehow. Calming herself down, she spoke slowly and carefully. “Look, I need you to understand something. It’s very important to me.” Why was it so hard to say this time? She had to stop and work out the words. “I know... what you must be thinking now. I know what I’d be thinking.”
“Jesse, it’s alright. You don’t have to explain anything to me. People make mistakes.”
She nodded. “Yeah, we do. But this wouldn’t have been a mistake - it would have been a sin. A really bad one, at that.”
“Ok,” he said, trying to follow. He didn’t undersant why she needed to explain this to him.
She made sure his eyes met hers. Now came the hard part. “It wasn’t my fault.” She couldn’t tell if he understood or not, but she didn’t want to say the word. She hated that word. It was a horrible, humiliating word, and she couldn’t make herself say it again... but somehow, she had to make him understand her. She couldn’t think of anything else. She peeled back the long sleeve of her shirt and tugged on her bracelet to reveal her wrist: a wide white scar circled it. “That’s where the ropes were. I tried so hard to get out of them that they cut right through the skin.” She rubbed the place as she remembered the pain. “I couldn’t scream because I was gagged... and no one would have heard me anyway. It was so loud...” The words caught in her throat in a little gasp. She couldn’t go on... and she could see now that Michael understood. She looked at him again and whispered, desperately. “It wasn’t my fault.”
She was raped. Michael stood up, and leaned against a birch tree. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have doubted her? He should have known. “Are you ok?” he asked finally.
She actually grinned at him. “It was almost four months ago. I’m as ok as I’ll ever be.”
It was a false grin. Her lightness didn’t fool him, and he immediately regretted asking the question. How could she be ok? He couldn’t even imagine what she’d gone through. He wasn’t about to call her a liar, though.
“Why did you come to camp?” he asked instead.
The question was a fairer one, and she gave him a more honest answer. “I needed to get away from home, away from everybody, and the pitying looks. I wanted to live normally again, to be happy, and I’m happiest here. Besides, God hasn’t told me to it’s time to quit yet.”

As abruptly as the box of secrets had opened, it seemed to shut again. The rest of the day was spent doing perfectly normal Staff Orientation things. They went to chapel. They learned how to put out fires (with a real fire extinguisher, courtesy of the Rocky Bay volunteer fire department), line up for the emergency bell, and everybody’s favourite, search the lake for a body, which was actually a five gallon ice cream bucket filled with sand. They had supper, where Jesse ate neither too much nor too little (Michael was watching), they sang songs, and they played a rousing game of capture the flag. Considering the nature of the sport, he was relieved to see that Jesse was absent during this portion of the evening.
After the game, while the wounded were tended to, the maintenance boys started up a fire. It was of a size that would never be allowed during a regular week, sending plumes of smoke into the air and nearly scalding the front row. But the heat and smoke failed to dishearten anyone. They sang more songs, most of them with actions, at first. They stomped like hippopotamuses, wiggled like fish, pretended they were Native boys out hunting with bows and arrows, and linked arms in pairs to dance in circles for some obscure but obviously religious reason. Michael sat in a back row. He went through the motions, but his heart wasn’t in it and he didn’t smile as much as he usually did. He tried not to stare at her, but she was right across from him, where the fire cast a glow on her face. He couldn’t help glancing every now and then. At least, he told himself it was only now and then.
On the outside she appeared normal, she knew. She danced and laughed and sang out loud. Not too loud, but with her own measure of enthusiasm and modesty, just as she always had. Then as the night drew on, the songs grew quieter, slower. Phil sat beside her, holding her hand. Her voice was sweet and clear as they sang:
I love you, Lord, and I lift my voice
To worship you, oh my soul, rejoice
Take joy, my King, In what you hear
May it be a sweet, sweet sound
In your ear

Jesse grew more quiet and solemn, but she wasn’t the only one. Everyone seemed focussed on the words. Her head fell on Phil’s shoulder as she willed herself not to cry again. Phil kissed her hair, bringing a smile. She was glad she had told Phil. After the embarrassing episode with Michael, she needed someone she could really talk to. Everyone else had been playing capture the flag, and she knew she shouldn’t be playing that sport anyway. It was a little rough.
Phil had been perfect: she’d cried with her, comforted her, encouraged her. And like only Phil could, she had made her laugh. She took her mind off what had been, and turned it to the future. Jesse revealed her barely swollen tummy, and Phil fairly squealed for joy. She’d immediately pledged her undying love to the little creature inside there, whom she declared already liked her. Jesse, of course, agreed with her.
“What’s its name?” Phil had asked finally.
“Its name?” repeated Jesse, slowly. “ I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“Well, come on, the kid’s got to have a name!”
“I think I have some time yet, though.”
“Well, what do you call it right now? You know, when you talk to it? Just baby?”
“I don’t call it anything,” said Jesse. She quickly got up and pulled her shirt down again, frowning. But when she saw Phil’s worried face she smiled again. “There’s lots of time to pick a name. I don’t even know if it’s a girl or a boy.”
“Well, I guess I can wait.” Phil took her friend’s hand as she tried to walk out. “It’ll be ok,” she said reassuringly.
Jesse really hoped it would be.

She could see Michael looking at her from time to time. She tried to ignore it, but it still bothered her. No sooner had she rested her head on Phil’s shoulder than she could feel his eyes on her again, probing. Oh well, she thought. She didn’t care anymore. Normal people didn’t look happy all the time, did they? She certainly didn’t have to pretend that she was. Who cared if he saw her frown? What did it matter anyway? He was only a boy...
And it was over. The last song was finally sung, and the final prayer prayed. The sun had set some time ago, and by rights the young people should have followed suit. However, camp was not that much different from the rest of the world: and youths seldom do as they ought. So a party was held in the dining hall, with pizza and Monopoly and all sorts of amusements which the young people liked. But Jesse was no longer young.
That night she lay in bed, unsleeping till well after midnight. Her body needed rest, but her mind argued and won, keeping her awake. Michael’s question plagued her. What am I doing here? she chastised herself. Acting like a child, like the carefree teenager she could no longer be; pretending, to herself and to her old friends. Old friends... friends who could no longer be her friends, because they were too young. She had been aged, her innocence taken away. She had been taken away. Children could not have children. And adults were supposed to know everything. Where did that leave her?
“Beaten by the constant waves, weathered and wasting away...” she whispered out loud. Like the sand on a beach. Not part of the water, yet not belonging to the land, either.
“I will renew you,” a voice said in her head.
“Will you? Will you really?” her soul cried out.
“I have water for you, drink,” the voice said.
She grasped at the promise, and for once, fell into the gift of a dreamless sleep.